


A Welcome Diversion

by Fumm95



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: But HE MISSED THE M9 AND NOBODY CAN CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE, Character Study, Dealing with Emotions, Gen, I haven't seen episode 97 so this could be wildly inaccurate, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23033992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fumm95/pseuds/Fumm95
Summary: Essek on how much his perspective on his solitary life has changed after getting to know the M9.
Relationships: The Mighty Nein & Essek Thelyss
Kudos: 36





	A Welcome Diversion

**Author's Note:**

> Because the line "There are elements to a solitary life that can sometimes be more challenging once you have a basis for comparison" is absolutely Essek speak for "I missed you" and nobody can convince me otherwise.
> 
> Also, I know shit went down in episode 97 but I've been pretty behind and I had this idea as soon as I watched episode 91 and he came over for dinner so BEAR WITH ME.

His days are too quiet.

In the past, the silence that has now engulfed his home for weeks on end would have been a welcome thing, granting him the perfect environment for pursuing his research without fear of interruption. The arrangement he has with the court allows him to strike a balance between his duties of serving the Dynasty and furthering his own goals. It is a system that has worked for the better part of a century, and he has always been, for lack of a better word, content with it. He does what he needs to for the dynasty, and then delves into the mysteries of dunamancy, fills the rest of his waking hours with the pursuit of knowledge.

But now…

Now, the same silence is heavy. It should be a blessing, with the threat of all-out war against the Dwendalian Empire looming overhead and the heightened activity that has brought for everybody within Her Majesty’s inner circle, but somehow, it seems to press, oppressive and ever-present, over him as he shifts his attention from one task to another in a dizzying, never-ending dance. Identifying traitors from the cult of the Angel of Irons. Collecting and disseminating reports from his operatives in the field. Extracting information from those who have been identified. Consolidating all of the information for his Queen and wondering—hoping—it is enough to prevent true war from breaking out.

He has always been ambitious and hardworking, traits that have helped grant him the success and power he has obtained, but even he feels the strain, the long hours and constant threat of disappointment, of falling behind and failing. Some days, it feels like it is all he can do to keep his head above the swiftly moving current.

With a somewhat heavy exhale, he sits back, feeling his neck and back protest the sudden movement. He does not need to check to know that much of the day has passed, a not uncommon occurrence when he has day after uninterrupted day and the list of seemingly endless tasks before him. And yet, as he relaxes, he finds his mind wandering once more to the small group that, more often than not, occupies the forefront of his musings when he allows himself a break.

It is a strange thing, habit. For so long, the solitude that engulfs him was constant, a simple fact of life that he had long-since accepted. Outside of his standing within the Empress’s inner circle, outside of his studies and all expected interactions therein, he had little connections to the rest of the Dynasty, with their emphasis on superstition and faith, on the inexplicable rather than that which can be learned and discovered. That was simply who he was and the life he had chosen for himself.

And then…

And then that ragtag band of adventurers who called themselves, in what is possibly the worst abuse of the Zemnian language he has ever witnessed, the Mighty Nein, crashed unceremoniously into the Lucid Bastion, bearing one of the dynasty’s stolen beacons and turning the entire balance of life in Rosohna and Xhorhas as a whole on its head. In just the short weeks since, they have made a permanent impact on the city, drawing the attention of the city and leaving their own, personal mark.

Even more pertinently, they have made a permanent impact on _his_ life. Loud and unruly, they brought chaos and change, messaging him, interrupting him, sometimes at highly inopportune moments, and generally leaving a whirlwind of energy that even he hardly feels prepared to deal with at times. In spite of, or perhaps _because_ of, that, more often than not, he finds his free moments occupied with thoughts of their activities, considerations that, try as he might, he cannot convince himself is simply scientific curiosity.

Now, they have departed Rosohna to address other concerns that required their attention. That in it of itself is not uncommon nor wholly unexpected, but the prolonged absence without word or whisper… That is unusual. Not after weeks of finding his concentration unceremoniously punctuated by the chipper, garrulous voice of the tiefling, often rambling beyond the limits of the spell she employs, of checking in on the group and granting favors and, in that one memorable moment, traveling briefly with them to their destination, though albeit not in his finest display of power.

And suddenly, abruptly, he has found his time once again his own, focused and uninterrupted. It is a return to the status quo, in some sense, back to a schedule similar to that which he has kept for decades. Quiet and solitary, the ideal considering the expectations placed upon him and the entire council. Except…

Except somehow, implausibly, his mind wanders even more than it used to. The silence falls heavier, more stifling, alone in his tower. Though thankfully, he can still focus, can still complete his tasks, it does nothing to cover the fact that something seems to be _missing_ , leaving hollow and empty space in its place, and he catches himself looking around, as if physically searching for whatever it is.

Almost against his will, the memories of a blithe smile, knowledge-hungry eyes, and a gruff but sincere invitation for dinner flash through his mind, and he gets to his feet, moving to the nearest window.

Outside, the streets are not entirely deserted, a sign that perhaps it is not as late as he first assumed. Instead, he watches idly as a small group of friends walk by, laughing and clearly enjoying each other’s company, and takes one quick, sharp inhale before shaking his head. He is being foolish…

“Guess who’s baaaaack!” As if on cue, a loud, cheerful voice breaks through his thoughts, and he _jerks_ , almost missing the remainder of her message as he regains his equilibrium, and offers a short reply as quickly and evenly as he can.

Still, as he prepares to make his way to their abode, he finds that it is a struggle indeed to keep a small smile from curving his mouth.


End file.
